


In All His Glory

by GealachGirl



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Accidental Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Mugging, Pining, Post-Season/Series 03, Rescues, Understanding, courtroom shenanigans, dictionaries, fun with the senses, more like overwhelmed kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 20:11:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20395468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GealachGirl/pseuds/GealachGirl
Summary: Ethereal has several definitions, but it also means the way Foggy sees Matt.





	In All His Glory

**Author's Note:**

  * For [94BottlesOfSnapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/94BottlesOfSnapple/gifts).

> (Also, angels are ethereal)
> 
> (the word was the prompt)

**Ethereal: **

**Merriam-Webster: 2 B. marked by unusual delicacy or refinement**

They were at the bar when Foggy’s world turned on its axis.

“No, I’m telling you, they don’t have a chance.” Karen’s face was bright with laughter and Matt was smirking because he was being a shit.

It was normal and natural. They were at Josie’s, they were celebrating a victory at court, and they were _happy. _Matt and Karen were arguing about something stupid, and Foggy was able to watch his best friends be loose and easy for the first time in actual years.

“Would you like to put a bet on that Miss Page?” Matt asked, lifting one eyebrow above the lens of his glasses. There was a cocky flash of teeth to back it up.

“You’re on Murdock.”

Matt turned on the barstool. “Do you want to put money down, Fogs?” he asked.

Foggy eyed both of them, then looked at the people at the bar who were flirting with Josie’s new bartender and planning how to ask him out. He figured Matt would probably have the better read on the hormone situation, he could probably smell attraction or something.

And the look on his face was interesting. It was just this side of hopeful and it reminded Foggy of college Matt and the first time he’d ever suggested they go out together, about two months into their friendship.

Foggy shrugged and picked up his beer. “Sure, I’ll bite. I think at least one of them has a shot. He’s been flirting back pretty hard.”

Matt accepted his compliance with a nod and turned so he could address both of them at once. “Alright, they’re on the move,” he said.

Foggy looked past Matt’s shoulder to the group and it did seem like they were gearing up.

Matt continued to narrate how it was going, though it was pretty obvious from watching. The group approached all at once, which Foggy thought was bold. He watched the whole thing play out, but he was mostly paying attention to Matt narrating for once.

He was good at it. And comprehensive by updating them mostly on what the group was saying but also giving them insight into sweaty palms and shaky heartbeats or voices.

Foggy watched him, and the way the dim lighting hit his glasses. The easy set to his shoulders and the way he drifted casually in and out of Foggy’s space with his body language.

Foggy had never realized he’d stopped doing that.

At the bar, each kid struck out with the bartender, and Karen’s eyes were gleaming.

“Well, well, well, it seems like you guys owe me.” Her laugh was bubbly on top of her words, and Foggy barely minded losing for seeing the look on her face.

“Did we ever set an amount?” Foggy asked, reaching back for his wallet. Karen shrugged and said they could pay up in drinks.

But Matt hadn’t responded, and Foggy glanced over his shoulder while Karen moved to the corner to order her victory drink. 

There was a smile on his face.

It was small and subtle enough to be easily missed, but Foggy recognized it immediately. He hadn’t seen this one in a long time, and even then, he’d never seen it very often.

With it, Matt was see-through.

His face was easy and it was like the smile itself was an afterthought, or just the natural result of the pure happiness that was radiating from him like light. Foggy saw the joy all the way through, and his chest tightened while his heart beat harder.

Matt was stunning, and something in Foggy’s brain, something he thought had gone away, lit up again.

This image wasn’t going to last long, even if the feeling might persist for a while, so Foggy committed it to memory.

When Matt shifted his expression over to him, Foggy returned the smile and leaned over to put his arm around Matt’s shoulders and tug him into his side. 

Matt laughed and jerked his head toward the bar, where the bartender was talking to one of the kids from the group.

“He’s explaining that he’s off the clock now, so he can pick that one up on the offer,” Matt said quietly, anchoring his arm around Foggy’s waist. “Their timing just wasn’t quite right before.”

Foggy glanced at Matt’s face. Sure enough, the smile was gone, but all of the ease and comfort were still there, and he was still sharing Foggy’s space.

“I guess we’ll have to tell Karen,” he replied.

**Macmillan: 1. ethereal sounds, qualities, etc. have a delicate beauty that makes them seem not to be part of the real world**

“Thank you, your honor.” Matt’s cane snapped as he unfolded it, which did well to establish the tone for his cross interrogation. Foggy knew he knew that, and that he did it on purpose.

And then Foggy sat back and watched Matt stalk to the center of the courtroom, muscles loose but ready like he was facing a physical fight.

Right after the big reveal, Foggy wondered if he should have seen Daredevil in the way Matt occupied courtrooms, but he’d come to realize there was something different to the fire he wielded in front of juries. Matt had covered the devil well.

There was something _other_ about that particular form of Matt’s anger and ferocity, but he still looked dangerously competent here in court.

And that was devastating. Foggy had to start averting his eyes when Matt did that thing with his chin and shoulders while he delivered his questions or the points that formed the crux of his argument.

It didn’t stop the wave of heat that rushed through Foggy, but it did divert his attention from it.

And it stopped him from considering if Matt knew about how Foggy was affected. Because he wasn’t sure Matt would just overlook it anymore.

Because sometimes he caught Matt “staring” at him or angling his head in the way Foggy had come to recognize meant he was focusing on him. And then there was always a look on his face like the one got when he zeroed in on a girl.

But here, everybody’s attention was on Matt, and Foggy couldn’t blame them.

He was incandescent in his suit, talking about a precedent from 1921 that they’d dug up at 12:30 in the morning.

And as he systematically took apart the prosecution’s argument, Foggy felt that glimmer of Feelings that had been reignited the other night swell.

He hadn’t really appreciated how much had changed until this moment, watching Matt command a whole courtroom.

Foggy’s original feelings had been sparked in mock debates at Columbia, so he’d always known the effect Matt’s arguing had on him. Somewhere along the line, between graduation and the shuttering of Nelson and Murdock, it had faded to a pleasant warmth and comfort. Something more platonic or brotherly. 

He’d been convinced that he was over it.

But here and now, witnessing how Matt pieced together their legal argument in front of the jury, Foggy realized he’d been wrong.

Maybe Matt made bad decisions most of the time, but the blazing intelligence still got to him, especially when Matt showcased it.

**Google: 2. Heavenly or spiritual**

The firm was a little higher off the ground this time around. They had a nicer, more official-looking office, paid for with Foggy’s savings and Elektra’s will. And their clients, who’d found Nelson, Murdock & Page because of Fisk or because they’d followed Foggy, could pay most of the time now.

They still worked a lot of late nights, but the point was that they were in a better neighborhood now, and Foggy expected some benefits from that.

The office was empty when Foggy finally stood up from his desk and packed his bag. The work wasn’t quite done, but he’d decided he could just as easily do it while sinking into his couch.

Matt had been out Daredeviling for about two hours now and he’d suggested he might stop by when he was done. So, Foggy also wanted to have something cooked by then, because nowadays he cooked meals at one in the morning.

It wasn’t a dereliction of duty on Matt’s part. Not like before. He’d just finished his work for the day, and the restless way he skimmed his fingers over his tactile watch and practically vibrated in his seat had gotten annoying.

Foggy had reluctantly accepted that Daredevil was key to Matt’s sanity, and at least without any kingpins or ninja organizations he was in less danger. It didn’t stop Foggy from bracing himself for the worst, but it made seeing Matt off a little easier.

Their office was in the neighborhood of several popular bars, so Foggy didn’t pay any attention to the loud voices. They came from everywhere, echoing off the walls of the alleys and carrying down the streets. It was like this almost every night, so Foggy didn’t even have a reason to pay it special attention.

He was locking up when a heavy hand settled on his shoulder and gripped hard.

He froze, stiffened and countless self-defense lessons flashed through his mind. Foggy was just ready with an elbow, when someone else grabbed him and he was being yanked around the corner, where it was a lot darker and out of the way.

“Hey guys, come on, there’s no way I have anything to offer you,” he rambled. The panic was crawling up his chest, squeezing, and it made his voice shaky and thin. He felt hyperaware of how their fingers dug into his arms.

“You don’t have a wallet?” One of them growled.

“Well sure, but it doesn’t have cash in it, and I’m just going to cancel my cards if you take those. I mean I guess you could sell the wallet, but it’s not really that fancy.” It had been a kind of gift though, and Foggy wasn’t exactly eager to part with it.

The other guy, who hadn’t talked, shoved him face-first against the wall, where the brick ground into his cheek and nose. He gasped at the sharp pain of it.

“No, I’m serious, I promise I’m serious. I don’t have anything.”

“Eh, you could be kind of fun though. Don’t like lawyers much.”

Foggy’s stomach sank, and he knew he couldn’t talk himself out of this. But it was his only real choice.

“Oh, good. That’s good to hear. But you know, I’m a defense attorney. I fight for people like you!”

“People like us? The hell is that supposed to mean?” His arm was twisted behind him and he winced.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, the downtrodden, mistreated workers of the city. The 99 percent. I think you’re making a mistake about the kind of lawyer I am and how much money I actually make.”

“And I think you talk too much.” Foggy heard a scraping sound, but his vision was filled with red brick. And then a fist drove into his side, and that pretty much took Foggy’s voice out of commission.

Somehow, events unfolded in a way that turned him around so he was face-to-face with the knife the one mugger was holding. Foggy tried to guess how they would decide to use it, and ultimately determined that he didn’t know them well enough to make a prediction.

All he really knew was that it was big and he was sure they were going to do something with it.

His words failed him now, not that they’d done much good.

“Anyone ever told you you’re annoying?” The knife-wielding one asked, almost conversational. Foggy nodded.

“You have been fun though,” the other, mocking one said.

“Great,” he managed to croak. He noticed the knife was closer and the guy holding it had adjusted his grip.

Then he noticed one of the shadows move. 

Daredevil was flashes of action. Violence and grace at the same time. Foggy could barely keep track of individual motions, and he pressed back against the wall to get as far away as possible.

Daredevil went after Knife Guy first. With a spinning kick, he got the man away from Foggy and on the tail end of the spin, an arm lashed out and sent the knife toppling into the shadows. Knife Guy yelled and held his wrist before he geared up to punch back.

Daredevil blocked it and swiped Knife Guy’s legs out from under him, throwing him back into the wall. Just in time to turn toward Mocking Guy, who’d launched himself at the vigilante’s back. Foggy winced, and for a moment real terror drowned out the steady relief he’d been feeling.

Daredevil staggered back a few steps, dodging two punches. Then he ducked under the man’s arms and hit him hard in the kidney area. Mocking Guy grunted and drove his knee up toward Daredevil’s chin. It made contact, and Foggy watched wide-eyed as Matt’s head snapped back and he lost his footing, falling a little to the left. Matt was silent, but Foggy was pretty sure he’d gasped for him.

And then, Matt used it to his advantage. He planted one foot and used the rest of his momentum to fly back toward Mocking Guy’s face.

He was snarling, lips pulled back from gritted teeth, and Mocking Guy fell victim to a hailstorm of fists.

Knife Guy was up on his feet again, holding his head. There was a glower on his face as he launched himself toward Matt.

And that was where Foggy lost track of it all. 

Now, the only thing he could see was Matt in all his glory. He’d seen a snippet of it when Matt saved his life at the Bulletin, but he hadn’t ever had the pleasure of witnessing him in action.

It was breathtaking.

Matt was a blur of fury and violence and finesse. It was like a light shone through him as he grinned and twisted out of the way of kicks and grabs, using the walls and plain momentum to hit back, to get the muggers on the ground and keep them there.

Foggy was in awe.

For the first time, he understood it. Right now, the same fire was burning in Matt that lit him up in the courtroom. But different still.

And this wasn’t just Daredevil fighting goons in an alley, it was also Matt Murdock, an avenging angel.

When it was finally over and the grunts and growls had gone silent, Matt went still. The only sound was his breath coming ragged out of his throat, his chest heaving. Instantly, his body angled in Foggy’s direction.

Foggy had been too wrapped up in watching the fight to bother standing up, so when Matt stalked over his first order of business was dragging Foggy to his feet.

His head twitched as they faced each other, and Foggy imagined he was being scanned for injuries. Meanwhile, he was searching for words that would convey how much his worldview had shifted. He wondered if his body was telling Matt for him.

“Matt, I–”

But Foggy was cut off by Matt’s hands drifting up to cup his cheeks and even if Foggy couldn’t see the rest of his face, he could picture the tortured expression that matched the tight twist of Matt’s mouth.

It was only for a second, because then Matt stepped forward, driving Foggy back toward the wall. The grip on his face tightened, but it was still gentle.

And then Matt’s lips were on his.

The kiss burned, and it was almost as hard to keep up with as the fighting. Luckily, Foggy knew how to kiss.

He slowed it down, letting his own hands drift to Matt’s hips and pull him in just a little. Matt sagged into him, and took Foggy’s gasp as an opportunity to introduce his tongue.

Slowly, Foggy felt the tension and low-level panic fade out of his body. He let Matt push him further into the wall, and he let himself _want_ for the first time in years. Ever since these feelings had been woken up, Foggy had given it his all not to think too hard about them. But now, he let them build and he let them out.

He held Matt’s hips firmer, and Matt almost reflexively tightened his hands in Foggy’s hair. His quiet moan was soft and breathy, and Foggy’s lips curled up into a smile.

But Matt froze.

With the way their bodies were pressed together, Foggy was able to feel the way all of Matt’s muscles locked up. He drew away, and Foggy was too confused to think to stop him.

“Matt, I–”

But Matt stepped back again and shook his head once. “Get–get home safe, Foggy. Have a good night,” he said gruffly before he turned and disappeared into the shadows.

Foggy though he heard a whisper of footsteps on the fire escape, and then he was alone.

His head thumped against the bricks as he fell back against the wall, and he started thinking of how to handle this new development.

**Dictionary.com: 1. Light, airy or tenuous 2. extremely delicate or refined 3. Heavenly or celestial **

Foggy hadn’t figured anything out overnight, so he was sitting in the office, lowkey worried about how Matt was going to handle it when he dragged his sorry ass in.

If he dragged his sorry ass in.

Just as Foggy reached for his phone to wake him up, Matt appeared in the doorway to the office with coffees for everyone.

He looked the way he always did. Neat, gray suit, tie, glasses, cane, confident position of his head. But it hit Foggy differently this time.

Because this time he had a memory of what it was like to have Matt pressed against him and the way his hips fit into Foggy’s hands.

If Matt remembered it in such vivid detail, he didn’t show it.

But he wasn’t acting weird, either. He greeted Karen and Foggy, distributed the coffees and went to his office to refresh his memory of what they had on the docket. When he was done, they’d have a semi-official meeting about the plan for the rest of the week.

Foggy could see how the rest of the day would continue as normal, how they would go back to being kickass lawyers and best friends. They’d touch, hands on elbows, arms around shoulders, being in each other’s personal space, because they had been each other’s personal space since college.

And he realized he didn’t want that.

Or, not just that. Foggy wanted more, and he knew now that there was a way he could get it. It would just come down to timing and doing it right.

He ended up waiting all day.

There had been a few times when Karen stepped out that Foggy had weighed the pros and cons of broaching the subject, but he’d always backed away.

Pros: it would clear things up sooner, Foggy would get closure one way or the other, he’d find out if Matt interpreted that little spark between them the same way.

Cons: it was bound to be a long conversation, Matt wasn’t one to talk about his emotions, Matt wasn’t one to let himself have what he wanted, and Foggy could be setting himself up for heartbreak or for another fundamental change to their relationship, neither of which should take place in the middle of the day.

As he sat on it, Foggy realized he’d have to do more than simply tell Matt how he felt. There were layers to Matt’s running away, and Foggy would have to address all of them at once.

By the time Karen left, he was ready. 

He crossed his fingers and went to Matt’s office. When he settled in the doorway, he noticed the way Matt’s shoulders tensed for a moment and he took a deep breath. But there was a plan, and he was going to stick to it.

“Hey Matty, do you want to hang out tonight?” he asked. “There’s a new Italian place near my apartment and they do free delivery for the first two weeks they’re open.”

Matt’s shoulders had relaxed, but the rest of the tension he was carrying eased now, too. “Maybe some other time, Fogs. I’m on patrol tonight.”

Foggy nodded slowly. “Right.”

“I’m sorry.” And to his credit, Matt actually looked it. Foggy wondered, not for the first time, about the tug of war Matt played with himself all the time. 

“No, no, it’s okay, Matty. Tomorrow?”

Matt gave him a weak smile. “Yeah. That sounds like a plan.”

“Alright,” Foggy shifted back and knocked on the doorframe. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He turned to go back to his office.

“Foggy.”

He turned to look at Matt, who had a conflicted look on his face. Then Matt took a deep breath and the smile he flashed was stronger. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night.”

For a second, Foggy briefly thought about last night and he suppressed the surge of butterflies. “Will do.”

\-------

Foggy looked over the food he’d ordered and thought about Matt’s patrols.

It only reinforced the guardian angel vibes he’d identified last night. Really, Foggy had to admit that Matt did good, and that there was something admirable about him voluntarily putting himself in harm’s way to help other people.

The admiration didn’t lessen how sickening the worry sometimes was, but Foggy recognized Matt’s commitment. It was the same thing that drove every aspect of his life.

A light that Foggy had fallen in love with when they were twenty-two years old.

The sound of a door opening and falling shut took Foggy out of his head. He practically buzzed with excitement.

Matt came down the stairs, mask already off, replaced by confusion. Foggy noted how his head tipped and his nostrils flared as he took in the spread of delivery Italian.

“Foggy?”

“It’s technically tomorrow.” Foggy hadn’t ever imagined he’d be relieved that Matt wasn’t in his apartment before midnight, but it had been so necessary to his plan.

“I, uh–”

“Sit down, grab a plate. It should all still be warm. That is, if you aren’t hurt.” To Foggy’s surprise, Matt listened. To his relief, he wasn’t bleeding.

“What are you doing here, Foggy?”

“I thought I’d deliver dinner and I could tell you about something that’s been on my mind.”

Matt shifted, and then got to his feet. “Let me go change.”

“Hey, no, you don’t have to.” Foggy followed him up and set a hand on Matt’s arm to stop him. Seeing him like this, talking to him like this, was another crucial part of the plan.

“But I’m–” Matt gestured to the all-black outfit and waved the mask. He looked confused and conflicted, and Foggy wondered how he’d ever thought he wasn’t in love with him.

Foggy held onto his wrists and stepped closer. “I know, Matty.”

Matt didn’t have anything to say to that, and his face was open and his eyes moved uncertainly. Foggy wondered what his heartbeat was telling him, because in his own ears, it was steady as ever.

“You ran off last night before I got a chance to say this,” Foggy started. Matt licked his lips and took an unsteady breath. Foggy squeezed his wrists for reassurance. “I see you. And I’m more in love with you now than I ever was before.”

Matt almost looked pained, and his eyes flickered closed. His breath hitched before evening out.

“Say it again?”

“I see you.”

Matt’s hands were on his cheeks then, and Foggy let go of his wrists. Slowly, Matt traced his fingers up Foggy’s temples, and one continued into his hair while the others drifted over the rest of Foggy’s face. And as Foggy relaxed into it, Matt touched their foreheads together.

That small happy smile was back on his face, colored with a touch of awe. Radiant. And it looked more permanent than usual.

“I love you, too,” he whispered, and one of his hands trailed down to Foggy’s chest and pressed right over his thumping heart. “What do you see?” he asked after a moment, louder.

Here it was.

Foggy smiled and brushed his thumb over one of Matt’s cheekbones. “The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Matt Murdock. My best friend. You.”


End file.
